


I Won't Give Up on You

by littlemissy106



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Artist Zayn, Fluff, M/M, Robbery, soldier!liam - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissy106/pseuds/littlemissy106
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Being twenty two is hard,especially for Zayn, who’s struggling through art school and tuition payments and the only thing he’s really got going for him at the moment is his job at this little art shop. Well that and Liam, who at least gets to Skype every week. It’s not the same as being able to actually spend time with his boyfriend,especially when said boyfriend is risking his life everyday in Iraq, but its better then nothing, and tonight’s something special because its their three year anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Give Up on You

Zayn hid a yawn behind his hand and tapped his pencil against the pad of paper that he had been sketching on, resettling his thick rimmed glasses on his nose and glancing at the clock every couple of minutes. He was beginning to suspect that one of his coworkers had changed out the clock to one that ran slower just to mess with him.

Seriously, he was sure it had been more than two minutes since he had last checked the time.

He couldn’t wait for his shift to be over in….fifteen minutes and twenty seven – no twenty six seconds.

He had been at work all day and tonight was his boyfriend’s and his three year anniversary. They were going to skype as soon as Zayn got home from work.

Liam and Zayn had met at an open mic night at the local bar. Zayn wasn’t really a singer, he was more into visual art, but he had lost a bet to his best friend Niall. So the blonde had decided that he wanted to see his Pakistani friend sing up on a stage (knowing that Zayn was a fantastic singer who just wasn’t too keen on big audiences). Zayn had climbed up on the small brightly lit stage, stuttered through a brief introduction and launched into the slow beat of “Let Me Love You”.

It hadn’t been as bad as Zayn had expected, the crowd had exploded with applause as he had finished off the final note and he had climbed off of the stage blushing.

His eyes had immediately caught on a long, tan, muscular form that had been walking towards him and he had sucked in a breath as his eyes met the warmest pair of melting chocolate brown eyes he had ever seen, and that was saying something coming from a family who didn’t have a single pair of blue or green eyes to be found.

The owner of the eyes stopped in front of him and for a moment neither of them spoke, before the boy in front of Zayn cleared his throat, blushing and swiping his brunette bangs out from over his eyes and blurting out, “Umm I need the mic.”

“Ohh,” Zayn had felt his face flush another shade darker and he had cursed his stupidity as he had extended out his hand holding the heavy black microphone. “Good luck.”

“Thanks!” the other boy had beamed at him before running on stage.

Zayn had watched from the side of the stage as the boy (Liam as he introduced himself on stage) had proceeded to sing the sweetest, saddest version of “Cry Me a River” that Zayn had ever heard.

And then suddenly Liam was standing next to him asking him if he wanted to get a drink and Zayn had agreed, nodding his head so hard that his neck had cracked and Liam had just offered him an adoring smile that had turned Zayn’s heart into a puddle of goo.

Three beers later and Liam was leaning forward, wrapping his hands gently around Zayn’s cheeks and kissing him like his life depended on it.

That was it.

Zayn was gone.

Completely head over heels for the boy who sang about tears and taught him to love.

It’s not until three weeks later that Liam tells Zayn that he has enlisted in the army. That he is shipping out at the end of the month. Zayn’s heart had cracked a little at that, and he’d spent the night curled up in Liam’s arms, desperately trying to pretend that it was all a dream and that Liam would never have to leave, and snarling at Liam every time the older boy tried to offer to break up with him.

Liam may have been leaving, but that didn’t mean that Zayn was going to give up on him.

That had been three years ago. Liam had been home twice, once for Christmas two years ago and once again in the fall of the next year, but he hadn’t been able to come back and visit for over a year now.

There were rumors that his tour would be up soon, but Liam hadn’t been able to tell Zayn when, saying that it all depended on how things went with the war.

While Liam had been in the army Zayn had applied and been accepted to an art school. He was now two years into his degree in visual art and he had started working at a local art shop to help pay off the tuition bills. The art shop had been a god send really. It had quickly become something of a second home to Zayn, even if it was bordering on being located in a bad neighborhood. He oftentimes felt more at home in the small, cluttered shop with its eclectic clientele and quirky store owner, then he did in his own flat that felt so empty without Liam’s presence.

Zayn glanced again at the old clock that hung over the door, letting out a grateful sigh when he noticed that the hands had moved to show 5:50.

He could finally justify starting to close up shop, since the official closing time on Fridays was 6.

So he straightened up, pulling the loose button up sweater that he wore over one of Liam’s white t shirts tighter around his body, shivering lightly in the cool air of the shop, he needed to get somebody out to check out the heater, but he just hadn’t wanted to give more bad news to the shop owner, Mr. Ollivetti. He wandered into the back store room, pulling out his keys and reaching out to lock the back door of building.

As he turned around he heard the sound of something crashing to the ground coming from the front of the store. Cursing in annoyance and fully expecting to be met with the sight of a bashful customer who had knocked over a display he froze when he rounded the corner into the main part of the store and came face to face with two older men with baseball caps, scruffy beards, and dirty t shirts. One of the men was behind the register, frozen for a moment with his hand wrapped around the handle of the cashbox in the register and a bag in the other hand. Next to his hand on the counter was a slim black pistol that made Zayn’s blood run cold.

He startled as the second man, the one who had indeed knocked over the display of easels that Zayn had spent all afternoon putting together, cursed and started moving towards the tan-skinned boy, waving the gun he held in his right hand menacingly and shouting curses.

Zayn instantly darted back towards the storeroom, intending to close the door between the room and the rest of the building and call 911, but he was brought to an abrupt halt by a rough hand yanking on the collar of his sweater.

He instantly wriggled out of the sweater, intending to leave it hanging in his attacker’s grasp, however the older man dropped his grip on the cloth and instead dug his fingers into the thick black hair of the youth, yanking the boy to a halt and then throwing him to the floor against the back of the counter.

Zayn cried out as fingers yanked his hair, sending his glasses clattering to the floor, and ripping at the dark strands. His cry was silenced sharply by his back and head colliding with the counter, stunning him into silence and freezing him.

He didn’t move as he felt hands run over his shirt and progressing lower. He held his breath as the hands neared the edge of his jeans, praying that what he thought was happening wouldn’t actually happen.

He gasped in a breath, only realizing that he had been holding his breath as the hands yanked his keys from his pocket and left him alone.

He felt tears running down his face as a hand roughly grabbed his chin and the cold edge of a gun was pressed under his jaw.

“Be a good little boy and keep quiet now. No need for you to get hurt anymore,” the man holding the gun cooed, face pealing into a smirk as he dug the gun into the soft skin of Zayn’s throat.

Zayn’s eyes narrowed in rage. He wanted to stop them. To fight back and keep them from taking the money as he watched the man with the bag use the keys that had been taken from Zayn’s pocket to open the cashbox and proceeding to empty the entire thing.

The store was barely staying afloat. As it was Zayn had been donating his time recently, only getting paid for half of the time that he worked because Mr. Olvetti simply couldn’t afford to pay him fulltime anymore. He had been hoping that eventually the stores revenues would get better and he’d be paid more, but if these men took all that money, which was essentially the revenue for the shop for the past week because Zayn hadn’t had a chance to run to the bank and make a deposit, it could very well mean the end of the store.

But what could he do with that gun aimed at his head? He wasn’t any good in these kinds of situations. To be honest he had always been a bit of a dud when it came to the self-defense moves that Liam had tried to teach him during his last visit. Eventually Zayn had begged to stop, promising to carry his cellphone and a can of pepper spray with him where ever he went. Liam had relented only after Zayn had nearly dislocated his arm trying to remove Liam’s hands from his wrists.

Finally the cash was empty and the bag that the man was carrying was now near half full.

“Is there any more?” The man holding the gun asked Zayn, nudging the boy with a foot to his ribs when he failed to respond.

Before Zayn could respond to the terse question the tinkle of the little bell that was tied to the front door of the shop echoed through the room.

———————————————————————

Liam eyed the fading sign that read “Olvetti’s Arts and Crafts” as the taxi pulled to a stop. His heart was racing and his palms sweating as he paid the cab driver before grabbing his pack that lay next to him and stepping out onto the curb in front of the art shop that Zayn had told him he worked at.

Liam couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face with every step that he took towards the cracked red door of the shop, towards where Zayn was. It had been so long since he had seen the younger boy. He missed him so badly and the Skype sessions only helped so much. He couldn’t wait to hold his boyfriend in his arms and kiss him and fall asleep next to him and make him breakfast in bed and –well suffice it to say that Liam had spent the past year imagining what he would do when he finally got to see Zayn again.

It was part of the reason that he hadn’t told Zayn that he would be coming back. He wanted to surprise the younger boy, wanted to see his expression when he finally recognized Liam.

So he moved forward and pushed open the door to the shop, glancing up as a small bell tinkled with the movement of the door. His eyes scanned the cluttered shelves that lined the walls and the rows and rows of pencils and pens and paints and canvases, he could understand why Zayn loved the shop so much, it wasn’t hard at all for Liam to imagine his boyfriend meticulously organizing the paints by color and lovingly arranging the different stencils and tools, running his fingers over each product and imagining what he would do with each one.

It was all just so Zayn that it made Liam’s heart beat just a little faster. His eyes searched more determinedly for the familiar fringe of jet black hair and the gentle brown eyes.

His brow furrowed as he took in the sight of a giant pile of easels that were scattered across the floor haphazardly. That seemed a little odd. He took a step towards the mess and froze as he finally came into eyesight of the register and the man who was standing behind it with a bag full of what Liam could only guess to be money and a gun lying carelessly on the counter.

“What’s going on here?” he asked sharply, taking a step towards the register and dropping his pack behind him, scanning around with his eyes for Zayn. From what Zayn had told him about the shop there was no way that Zayn would leave it unattended or let a couple of thugs steal without at least putting up a fight.

As he took another step closer another man came into view crouched behind the counter with his attention focused on something at his feet.

For a moment both men seemed to freeze at Liam’s commanding question, but then the man who was crouched down was standing up, dragging a skinny figure with him and holding the person up in front of him.

He took the gun that he held in one hand and pressed it to the temple of the boy that he held and Liam’s heart nearly stopped as he met Zayn’s dazed eyes. The younger boy had blood trickling down the side of his head, staining his sweater beneath, his glasses were nowhere to be seen, and his clothes were rumpled as if he had been thrown around.

“Don’t move or I’ll blow the kid’s head off,” the thief snarled, slowly starting to back away.

Zayn’s eyes widened as he took in the foggy figure of a soldier dressed in a camouflage uniform. Something seemed familiar about the figure and he narrowed his eyes, struggling to see the person’s face clearly without the use of his glasses. He sucked in a shocked gasp as the figure took a careful step forward and he was finally able to recognize the muscular body, strong jaw, and tired eyes of his boyfriend that should still be in Iraq.

“Lia-,” he whimpered out in shock, cut off by a sharp nudge from the man who was dragging him backwards.

“Zayn. Hey baby. It’s going to be okay,” Liam offered, smiling gently at the younger boy while his whole body screamed to attack the man and get Zayn to safety. This whole thing seemed like a cruel joke from the universe. He was the soldier. He was the one who was supposed to have his life threatened, not Zayn, not his innocent, cute, kind boyfriend who he’d left at home in the hopes that he’d be safe.

“Shut up,” the man behind Zayn snarled, still backing up and being followed closely by his partner.

Just as he took another step his foot snagged on the corner of one of the shelves and with a startled yell he fell back, dragging Zayn down on top of him.

Instantly Liam leaped forward, knocking out the other thief with one blow to the head and then turning towards where Zayn and the other thief were grappling, Zayn to get away and the thief determined to keep using the boy as a shield. 

Suddenly the gun, which had remained clasped in the hand of thief as he struggled went off, freezing the room for a moment before Liam was dragging Zayn free of the thief’s grasp, setting the younger boy behind him and then jumping forward and breaking the man’s hand that held the gun, sending the weapon spinning across the floor.

Instantly the other man howled in pain, and his other arm lashed out instinctively, but Liam was faster, catching the blow and wrapping an arm around the other man’s throat until his fighting stopped and he went limp from lack of oxygen.

Only then did Liam look back up at Zayn. At first he smiled, relieved that the whole thing was over, but his smile fell as the only response he got from Zayn, who was sprawled out leaning against a shelf of sketch books, was a dazed expression as the younger boy’s hand groped blindly at his side, coming away stained with blood as a whimper fell from Zayn’s lips.

With a startled cry of, “Zayn?!” Liam was at the side of his boyfriend, carefully pulling Zayn’s long, thin hands away from where the white t shirt that hung loose on his frame was slowly growing red. He briefly recognized the shirt as his own and a flair of affection ran through him, but was quickly stamped out as he gently rolled up the shirt to relieve a bullet wound marring Zayn’s right side.

He cursed and immediately shrugged out of his jacket and pressed it over the wound to staunch the flow of blood, shushing Zayn’s cry of pain with a gentle kiss to his forehead and a murmur, “ I know love. I know. I’m so sorry. Just hang in there.”

He kept one hand pressed firmly to Zayn’s side as he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911, asking for an ambulance, describing the injuries, and giving the operator and address before hanging up.

He looked up from where his attention was focused on pressing his jacket to Zayn’s side when the younger boy quietly whimpered out a choked, “Liam?”

He looked up into Zayn’s pale face to find a tear trickling down the dark-haired boy’s face, mingling with the dried blood that was beginning to crack along his face.

“Hey babe,” he cooed, gently repositioning Zayn so that the younger boy’s head was nestled on Liam’s shoulder and his upper body was curled against Liam’s chest. “I missed you so much.”

“Ho-ow?” Zayn murmured shakily, his body beginning to tremble slightly in shock.

“Told them I had an amazing boyfriend that didn’t deserve to spend our anniversary alone,” Liam answered, repositioning his hand to press down harder on the jacket and softly kissing Zayn’s temple.

Zayn’s breath choked out in a sob as a fresh wave of pain spun through his chest. “Hurts,” he cried softly, burrowing his face into Liam’s neck and biting down on his lip to keep from sobbing out again.

Liam blinked back tears of his own as he leant over the boy cradled in his arms, wrapping him in his own body and trying to comfort as best he could. “I know. I know it does. I wish – wish I could take it. I’d take it all away if I could. But you’re gonna be okay. You have to be okay. All right? I didn’t fly all of the way back here just to have you finally give up on me.”

Zayn’s only response was to wrap one of his hands in Liam’s shirt and to quietly whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you too, but no falling asleep. Not yet. Zayn? Hey baby. Come on stay awake for me. Just a little longer.”

Zayn’s head jerked once in an effort to keep his eyes open for Liam, but the effort was futile and the last thing that Zayn heard was Liam’s desperate sob of, “ Please Zayn. Don’t give up on me.”

——————————————————————————-

The first thing that Zayn registered was a slow, dull ache in his side, as if he had ran too fast after drinking a bunch of water and gotten a really bad cramp for his efforts.

The second thing that he registered was that he had a bit of headache and that the lights were _really_ bright.

He sucked in a sharp gasp and quickly closed his eyes again, resigning himself to falling back asleep. He had had the strangest dream with Liam and thieves and guns and really it was all very dramatic. He must have drunken too much tea before going to bed last night.

At least that’s what he thought until a breathless, but still very familiar voice called out.

“Zayn?”

Zayn’s eyes shot open again and he lurched forward, barely strangling a scream at the pain that movement sent running rampant through his side.

“Hey, whoa, easy there,” the voice urged softly as a pair of thick, worn hands gently eased him back down onto what he now registered as a hospital bed.

He rolled his head to the side, eyes still squinting in the light, desperate to see the owner of the voice.

“Liam?”

It took a moment for Zayn’s mind to catch up with what his voice had just said. He watched as his boyfriend stepped over and turned down the lights.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small sigh of relief as the pain that the light triggered in his eyes slowly trickled away.

He opened his eyes again when a warm hand reached up and brushed his bangs off to the side before settling along his cheek. He leaned into the touch that he had been craving for over a year and slowly took in the boy – no, the man that was before him.

Liam looked older, more tired and world weary somehow, even since the last time Zayn had seen him. It saddened him to think about what Liam had had to endure, but at the same time it was still Liam. He had the same strong jaw, the same cute, bashful smile, and the same warm and inviting eyes.

“Is that better?” Liam asked softly, clarifying his question when he caught Zayn’s look of confusion. “The light. The doctor’s said that your eyes might be sensitive to light for a while because of the mild concussion.”

Zayn nodded in understanding and replied, “Yes thank you,” but the look of confusion remained on his face because……

  _Liam? Liam was here? In London? Why? How? **When?**_

“Do you remember what happened?” Liam asked, misinterpreting Zayn’s silence and continued confusion.

For a moment Zayn paused, running through the crazy events that he had thought were a dream, but were apparently actually happened. “There…was, some thieves? And then you were there and-“

His unconsciously drifted down to his side where he could feel what he now realized was a thick bandage, but he was stopped short by a painful tugging in his arm. He turned his head and frowned at the IV needle that was restricting his motion, but turned his attention back to Liam, who had moved to sit on the edge of the bed and had very carefully placed a hand over the bandage.

“I almost lost you,” he whispered, almost to himself, and Zayn was struck by the conflicting emotions that ran across his boyfriends features. There was anger and sadness and fear and other emotions that flew by too quickly for Zayn to recognize.

“The bullet didn’t hit any organs thank God, but you were still bleeding so badly and it took the paramedics almost twenty minutes to get there. They had to give you three pints of blood once you got here. I thought – I thought you were really gone.”

“But I’m not. I’m still here and you’re here. How are you here?” Zayn asked, wrapping his free hand around Liam’s hand. “Is your tour….?”

“Done. – Or at least officially done tomorrow, but…you know?” Liam shrugged, glancing up at Zayn and smiling softly at the absolute joy that radiated from Zayn’s face at the news.

“So they just let you leave early or something?”

“Well,” Liam hedged, removing his hand from Zayn’s and putting it in his pocket where Zayn could see him fiddling with something that was vaguely cube shaped. “I called in a couple of favors. Told them I had something important to do. And I promised them something in return.”

“Something important? What do you have to do?” Zayn asked curiously, cocking his head as best he could between the lumpy pillow and the headache that ran at a constant low thrum.

For a moment Liam didn’t say anything, seemingly thinking about how to respond before he looked Zayn in the eyes and said, “I have to propose to my boyfriend.”

It takes Zayn a couple of seconds to process the words through the shock and vague film of pain medication. When he does his mouth falls open and he stares wide eyed as Liam gets off of the hospital bed and kneels on the linoleum floor, pulling the object that he was fiddling with out of his pocket to reveal a black velvet box.

When he opens it Zayn’s eyes begin tear up because he knows that’s Liam’s father’s ring, knows that his mother used to wear it on a chain around her neck after her husband died in a car crash when Liam was only 10. It’s just a simple gold band but it means the world to Zayn because it means the world to Liam.

“Zayn, I almost lost you last night. There was a moment there, when I thought you were gone, that I gave up any hope of ever being happy again. Because that’s what you are to me. You are happiness and laughter and mint tea at night and soccer in the rain and cuddling under a blanket when it’s cold outside and lazy mornings and reading the best part in a really good book and my favorite singer. You are my everything and I couldn’t go on if I lost you. You’ve spent the past three years not giving up on me, believing me when I said I would come home and trusting me when you had no idea what was happening. So I want to spend the rest of my life not giving up on you. On believing in your strength and intelligence and your compassion and imagination. I want to spend the rest of my life looking after you and learning from you. Zayn Jawwad Malik would you do me the absolute honor of marrying me?”

Zayn’s sobbing by the end and he can only helplessly nod, cracking his neck in the process and it’s just like the very first time that Liam asked him out but so much better as the joy spreads across both of their faces. Zayn starts to lean forward, intent on kissing his fiancée, but Liam’s faster, moving forward and gently restraining him, whispering out a jovial, “Ahah no moving for you Mr. Payne, doctor’s orders,” before he steals Zayn’s breath with a kiss that says just how much he really loves the boy beneath him.

When they finally break apart Liam has climbed up onto the bed with Zayn, pulling the younger boy against him so that his body looms over Zayn’s smaller form, protecting him like he intends to do for the rest of their lives.

They both watch with bated breaths as Liam gently slides the ring on Zayn’s ring finger. It fits perfectly and both Zayn and Liam are quiet, both absorbing the moment and struggling to come to terms with the whirlwind of emotions and events that had happened over the past day.

Finally it’s Zayn who breaks the silence.

“So what did you promise them?”

“Hmm?” Liam hums, still holding Zayn’s hand and admiring the way that the ring, his ring, just seems like it’s meant to be there.

Zayn nudges Liam with his shoulder and nuzzles further into the warmth of the older boy, eyes half closed as he tries to keep from falling back asleep. “The people who let you leave early. What did you promise them?”

Liam just chuckles and kisses Zayn’s forehead before responding.

“Wedding invitations.”


End file.
